Viricapnity
by Cimbeline
Summary: The smoke rolled, lifting, floating and dissipating in gentle, warm wisps. The planes of his circean face, those that had plagued her dreams so mercilessly, became hazy in the turbid air between them. " Dramione oneshot.


**Author's Note:** I hope the format of this isn't quite so confusing as it seems. I've decided to formulate this one as a series of vignettes- they're all around the same time. I.e. **1.** is a sort of prologue. They go in order from then on- **2.** comes before **3.**, **4.**, and **5.**, etc. but is not on the same day. Between **5. **and **6. **is where the prologue goes.

Gah. I hope this isn't as convoluted as that explanation sounded. PM/Review with questions if you need me to clarify.

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**1.**

_Alas! the forbidden fruits were eaten,_

_And thereby the warm life of reason congealed._

_A grain of wheat eclipsed the sun of Adam,_

_Like as the Dragon's tail dulls the brightness of the moon._

― _Rumi: Masnavi I Ma'navi _

He was once a boy, she told herself, as all men had been. The thought of him sticky-fingered and toddling did little to ease her fears as she read his expressions- surely this harsh-planed man had merely decided to exist as he was, with a disregard for fate and rules as intoxicating as the scent that rolled off his skin when a draft cooled the room. She blinked when he lifted a cigarette to his lips and lit it from a torn matchbook.

The smoke rolled, lifting, floating and dissipating in gentle, warm wisps. The planes of his circean face, those that had plagued her dreams so mercilessly, became hazy in the turbid air between them. He replaced his cigarette case and book of matches into his pocket and settled into his plush chair, the back of his platinum head crushing slightly on the over-stuffed headrest.

She let out a breath.

He spoke, and she startled. "Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons.." He smirked to himself, took a pull, and continued.

"Their impure blood will water our furrows.._Les Marseilles_, Granger. Les peuples francais n'aimait pas le sang impur."

She shivered at his intonation, but there ws a downward twitch to her lip.

"Malfoy, there is no need for such..._insensitivity_. I understand that I am in no position to be saying so, but I would appreciate it if-"

"What, Granger, you don't want to water my fields?"

She blushed and fingered the hem of her skirt. The back of her neck was heated, and she felt a shiver trawl along her spine and unfurl behind the circle of her ear when he got up suddenly to stand behind her.

A silken whisper, beautiful save for the taint of a smirk so audible in the silence, snaked into her mind, caressed her throat, and ended above the flushed and throbbing place on her chest where her heart tore with hope and fear.

"_I have been waiting, you understand.._

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**2.**

_/"Dew ever shining and twilight grey;/ Though hope fall from you and love decay/ Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue."/_

He watched her, silent as an owl by night. A shimmering trail of moonlight swirled on her relaxed features, highlighting the gentle sweep of her cheekbones and the tousled locks of her auburn hair.

He watched her as her eyelids fluttered dazedly in the uniformly grey predawn light, and as she sat up, looking about in increasing dread, catching only by the dim light of the dormitory a sweep of dark fabric through the door.

**3.**

_/"What then from all the vine and seed?/ On the fragant air of spring they feed/ In the chasm of these eyes, nothing satisfies/ staring into the starry-eyed infinite."/_

"Hermione,"

The clatter of breakfast cluttered her mind, and stressed her thoughts. An anxious feeling spread throughout her, the still-dark sky overhead roiling on the illusioned ceiling. Ever-increasing unease gnawed through her, her stomach empty, her fingers restless-

"Hermione,"

History of Magic was the first class for the seventh year Gryffindors on that day. Professor Binns drawled on, providing a clean sort of white noise to temper her thoughts.

"Hermione,"

Her thoughts pause.

"Yes, Harry? Is anything the matter?"

**4.**

_/Go placidly amid the noise and the haste/ and remember what peace there may be in silence./_

She walked with purpose, the thrum of rolling bells and the promise of peaceful sleep forcing her on. She patrolled with a disinterested stare and a heavy pace, warning all miscreants of her prescene. The prefects she had used to patrol with, and now her partner head boy, had all alerted her to this. She could not be an effective patrol if curfew breakers fled as she approached.

What they did not realize, those nights passed, was that she sought solitude with ever growing fervor, especially the still, dust-laden one achieved after midnight in a dark empty classroom. Ebon whispers of the past swirled in these, she mused, and she would sit in a corner and listen to the forgotten life in the dull air and tired stone of unused space.

**5.**

_/"With a dark and gentle kiss/ From the mouth of blinding bliss/ I've made my peace with all of this."_

This dark room was most different from the ones she usually haunted. She suspected he knew that, of course, seeing as he inhabited one which she would not be tempted to enter- or she had been tempted, so perhaps this was purposeful?

His logic, hidden though it was, was compelling as the sting of winter air that chilled the room.

She shivered and looked to his face, as though asking permission to leave and let their parted ways remain so. His pale eyes locked with hers, and did not sneer, nor question, nor smirk.

They commanded.

She sat across from him, and felt a shock of fear and nerves wrest stormily with curiosity when the door shut quietly and locked when he whispered a word and flicked his wand.

**6.**

_/"I have been waiting, you understand..."/_

A soft touch, as easily mistaken for a rustle of air as the whispers twining around her, followed his words. She longed to break the silence- but knew, if she spoke, the spell would end, the smoke would clear, and she would be left dazed in a dusty cold room.

A flick of his tongue treaded in the path of his words and her eyelids fluttered sweetly as they had when she had awoken that one morning.

She gasped breathily and rolled her neck back when he traced his fingertips over her throbbing heart- and suddenly, there was a silken breath on her cheek, and the silent press of her lips to his.

Her eyes opened- and he was gone.

She stood slowly, and walked out into the corridor, pressing out the embers on the end of his forgotten cigarette.

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**Quote (italicized text) Citings:**

2. Title Unknown by William Butler Yeats

3. Lover's Greed by Jump Little Children

4. Desiderata by Max Ehrmannn

5. Broken by /Jump Little Children


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